“The more vigour the enemy displays,” he said to the marshals and generals who surrounded him, “the less ought we to slacken in our attack. We must not give these Oriental fanatics time to gather together against us from their remotest wilds. How can we go into winter quarters in July? And what sense is there,” he asked, “in breaking up a campaign like this into several parts?” forgetful of his own recent advocacy of the opposite view. “Be assured, gentlemen, that I have pondered deeply over the question. Our troops are always ready to advance, an offensive war is a war after their own hearts, whereas a long stay in one place is not acceptable to the French temperament. To shelter ourselves behind frozen rivers, sit in mud huts and endure privation and _ennui_ for eight months, with daily manœuvres and never a step in advance—is that the style of warfare we are accustomed to? The winter has other terrors than its frosts. It may bring with it endless diplomatic intrigues. Is it safe, think you, to give all these allies—whom we have successfully won over to our side, but who feel strangely out of place, I doubt not, in our ranks—to give them time, I say, to realize how unnatural is their position? “Why should we remain inactive for eight months when we can attain our end in twenty days? Let us forestall the winter! We run the risk of losing all if we do not strike a swift and decisive blow. If we are not in Moscow in twenty days, it is possible we shall never get there at all. If peace be signed at Moscow, I shall have won the best and most glorious of all my victories!” It was, however, already too late in the year, and the marshals were of opinion that further advance was out of the question. Berthier, Prince of Neufchâtel, was so bold as to urge this fact upon the Emperor, and to explain his reasons. The Emperor gave him a very warm reception. “Begone!” he said. “I have no need of you, you are only a ——. Go back home! I will keep no one with me against his will.” Berthier, however, endeavoured to dissuade Napoleon from the decision he had arrived at, not by argument but by an appealing glance; there seemed almost to be tears in his eyes. Lobau and Caulaincourt tried to influence him by more open opposition, which took the form of bluntness with the former and persistence with the latter. The Emperor angrily swept all their opinions and advice on one side, and replied with the remark, aimed more particularly at Caulaincourt and Berthier, that he had made his generals too rich. “They can think of nothing but hunting and driving about Paris in expensive carriages—they are sick of the very name of war.”